MY CHRISTMAS GIFT.
On the eve of Christmas Day,
Ere the moon began to rise,
I fell to dreaming.
When a fairy did display,
Spread before my wond'ring eyes,
Bright jewels gleaming
Like the stars at night.
Then to me—"Choose which to send
As a present to your friend,
And thus your friendship plight."
Ah! how rare the jewels seemed
Ere those words were spoken.
After, I no longer deemed
Gems a fitting token.
"Jewels may her garments grace:
'Tis not there that I would place
Something to remind her thought
Of the friendship of my heart.
Not all gems that may be bought
Would of that be counterpart."
"Hoity, toity!" said the fairy,
"This is extraordinary!
Don't you know 'tis customary?"
"Yes," said I; "but on this morn
Could I but her heart adorn
With some little gift of mine,
Then 'twould have a fitting shrine."
Gathering up her jewels rare,
Said the fairy, "Don't despair.
Send her what her heart can wear."
Reaching out my eager hand—
"Have you in all fairy-land
Such a boon at my command?"
Raising up her eyes to heaven—
"Only there such gifts are given.
Gifts that make the heart more fair
God bestows. The price—a prayer."
God knows the prayer is said, my friend.
I doubt not He the gift will send.
A HERO, OR A HEROINE?
CHAPTER XVI.
GOOD-NIGHT.
During the latter part of Margaret's stay at Shellbeach, the doctor noticed that he never saw her alone; and as formerly he had observed, with amusement, Miss Spelman's many admirable reasons for leaving the room, he imagined that Miss Lester had been the cause of the change. "She wants to prevent my going too far," he said to himself; and then with a rather bitter laugh, "She need not be afraid." He often met her riding alone on the Marchioness, or caught sight of her at sunset on the beach with her little dog, but they had very little satisfactory conversation of any kind together. Once or twice she made allusions before him to a "period of importance," or to a "momentous decision," or to the "turning-point of her existence," which was at hand; but it was always as a joke, and she seemed to enjoy his surprise and embarrassment.
"She does not want me to forget July 18th, the date of our absurd agreement," he said mentally. "What a fool I was to allow such a nonsensical arrangement! I wish I were well out of the scrape."
At last, on the evening of the appointed day, Miss Spelman gave a little tea-party and Dr. James was present. He had resolved that he would decline; but he was curious to see what Miss Lester would do and say, and so, at some inconvenience to himself, he made his appearance among the guests. He happened once to have expressed his dislike to pink bonnets, and indeed to that color for any part of a lady's dress; and lo, on this occasion Margaret came to meet him, radiantly smiling in rose-colored muslin, with delicate roses to match in her hair and on her breast! It was extremely becoming, the doctor perceived, and he saw also that her spirits were at their height. He inwardly groaned at the prospect of the evening before him. It was pleasant, however; even he acknowledged it. Margaret's mischievous remarks were few, and she seemed to have the power of drawing people out and making every one appear his best; every one, the doctor felt, except himself. In vain he exerted himself to be agreeable and unconscious; he was grave and preoccupied. The thought of that dreadful letter which he had promised to write that very evening weighed on his mind, and he was perplexed by doubts and questions concerning it, himself, and Miss Lester. Was he not taking her words too literally? Had she the remotest idea of writing to him? or would it not end in his making an utter fool of himself? No; never before had she been so handsome, so gay, so universally kind. Little Miss Spelman caught the infectious cordiality, and beamed upon her guests with overflowing hospitality.
The windows and doors stood open, the sweet breath of roses was in the air, and suddenly from the garden came the sound of instruments. A serenade! Miss Spelman and every one looked at each other in surprise, for the music was not such as was obtainable in Sealing. But a glance at Margaret convinced all that she was the author of this unexpected pleasure. She said in a low voice to her aunt, "This is my contribution to the general festivity;" and it was indeed a delightful addition. The band played at intervals through the evening, the music varying from grave to gay, from solemn to pathetic.